Oy ! I Can't Find My Groove

To all my beloveds out there, I want you to know that I am doing amazingly well......am gamboling around with just a cane (whenever I rouse myself from my favorite horizontal position).  Having very little pain and not even too much discomfort.  The best word to describe my state would be languid, I think.  Cossetted in mounds of pillows and surrounded by various footstools (one for Gussie who must have her own right beside me lest she tromp on my sore leg,  one for the computer and one for my own feet and legs which prefer to be elevated just so.)    I am, in many ways, the luckiest dumbshit in the world;  and yet, I am not ready to snatch up the gauntlet and go on with the struggle.   I think I am just going to lie here for a while, if you don't mind.

Also, unluckily for you, I have just discovered that it is Pre Football Season, so all hopes of my tapping out a brilliant piece on my adventure and my condition are out of the question...........unless   I have an ounce of energy left over when the games are off later.


I have counted all the various parts......arms., legs, fingers, toes......and except for a few errant pints of blood which accidentally leaked into my right thigh I seem to be all here, but I just can't seem to get going.  I am beginning to suspect that they did some undocumented things while in the hospital.....perhaps replaced my brain with someone else's, or excised all my gumption.
My chief skill seems to be lying prone in the lounge chair ringing a little brass bell for service.   I am not complaining, you understand, just explaining and apologizing why news from this front has been so sparse.

Please stick with me folks and I will tap out a few cryptic messages as the ability returns.  Meanwhile, know that I am well and well cared for............except for that Gussie.....

Ha Ha, Mephisto....You Thought You Had Me,,,,,,,,,,,,

A quickie.........I am doing fine and felling fine..........no.....I am also feeling fine.,,,just tryping poorly as usual.....hmmmm....tryping.....that word has possibilities.....I willl have to invent an appropriate meaning........

Will write soon. I promise.

Love ya. 

Wednesday August 8., 2012 .......Escaped

 Ahhhhhhhhhhh........ummmmmmmmmmm.

Home again !!!!  
At last.    For good I hope.........

Aaaarrrrrgggghhh!

Will report all in revolting detail soon.

 Love ya all.

Oops, Gol Darn and Shitpissfuck

Sorry folks...sometimes there are glitches.   Murphy still rules


 am going back to the hospital on friday for a bit more surgery  to close off a lleaking blood vessel.


I am OK except for having a thigh the size and color of a Smithfield ham........we won't talk about the pain.....oy.


I hope to be  home saturday or dead........either one is ok with me.


Will update you asap..  


Not to worry.....I will be OK as soon as they deal with the Ham.


Love     Lo

My Heart Has Been Successfully Tickled

You may all uncross your fingers, my dears..........Lo is home more or less intact or, rather, even better.

As you have often heard me say.....More later.

And thanks for your good thoughts and prayers.

Love ya.

What Next? Well.... They Are Going To Tickle My Heart......

Six or seven years ago I went to the Doctor with some vague discomfort in the middle of my bodily self and before I knew what was happening I was pushed into a wheel chair,  told to notify anyone who needed to know (I called my cat sitter to take over the kitty routine for me) and was wheeled across the parking lot to the hospital wherein an unknown gentleman invaded my bod with a device  through an artery in my groin and reamed out the plumbing to my heart, leaving behind one or two stents to keep things open and to show he had been there.  Since  then the old pump has been performing rather well and I have been most grateful and very impressed.


Last week, I went to the Doctor with some vague discomfort in the middle of my bodily self and was told I had a cardiac flutter which, while not life threatening at this moment, needed to be tended to either with medication or with ..........the dreaded term.....a Procedure.  Before I even heard what the Procedure was, I had decided that I was already taking too damned many pills and capsules and was leaning toward mechanical intervention (that is after I was assured that the Procedure was NOT Open Heart Surgery).  And when I heard that meds were only 70% successful whereby the Procedure was 95% successful I was even more convinced. 


So it has come to pass that I will go to the hospital this Thursday as an outpatient , whereupon an adorable Armenian Doctor (whom I now do know) will violate my bod with his magic wand (get your minds out of the gutter) entering a vein somewhere and proceeding upward with camera and electrical probe to find the misbehaving nerve in my heart and Zap it to extinction with his stun gun  After the appropriate zapping and my return from blurred consciousness I am told I can go home same day and go about my normal life cured of flutter.  Piece of cake.  Well,. it sounds good anyway.


My blogging may be a bit more erratic than usual, depending how well I tolerate this fascinating invasion, but I promise I will try to blog a line or two when I get home just to let you know that I did not get Zapped altogether.  I actually have very little anxiety about this since the more drastic procedure in the past (where I was also sedated but conscious) was no problem at all and  it sounds a bit Science Fiction-y so I am looking forward to seeing how it all works.  I already saw the magic wand and it looks very ordinary and much like any old computer connector wire except for the business end which is teeny and I am sure is very sophisticated.  (in other words.....don't try this at home.)


I do not want you to worry, but if any of you care to think a kind thought or two and send good vibes my way I will certainly receive them with open arms.


Ain't it amazing the things they can do these days?  So why can't we figure out World Peace???    What a dumbkopff I am..........I know why.....there's no profit in it.   Sigh           



Ode To My Cardiac Rhythm Specialist


Tickle my heart, tickle my heart
Give me the pink pill for a start
Then the purple one, next the yellow spotted.
Dose me until I am quite besotted.
Then proceed with the local numbing 
Before you invade my cardiac plumbing.


Am I smiling beatifically? Then you may start
to gently climb up to my heart.
Carefully peruse my trusty pump
and find out what is making it jump.
Instead of ka-boom, ka-boom, why is my ticker  
sounding more like a Chickaboom, chickaboom chick-er?


When you find the errant, rebellious nerve,
please zap it neatly, do not swerve
with your amazing magic cattle prod .....
Just promise me, for the love of God,
that while messing around among my heart's swirls and loops
I do not hear you mutter the dreaded word.......... "Oops".

A Paean In Praise of Leftovers.

Even   though I am constantly protesting that I don't know nuthin',. I am frequently coming to conclusions which could be filed under "Things I Think Could Be True........For the Time Being Anyway."  And one of the things I have concluded to be undeniably true is that there are two kinds of people in this world..........those that love leftovers and  them that hates 'em. 


Oddly enough, I have come to believe that what motivates both types is good, old fashioned fear.  (actually, I think that motivates almost everything we do, one way or another....but that is for another blog).


There are people like me who are so afraid (yea, terrified and paralyzed with fear) of not cooking "enough" for the particular occasion that they prepare vittles sufficient to feed an army.  Consequently, after those who came to the table to be fed have  staggered off, stuffed with second and third helpings, we are left to view the scene, and mutter shamefacedly (while eying the mountains of food left on the table), "I guess I made too much".   The shame quickly fades and is followed immediately by raucous cackling and gleeful rubbing of hands at the prospect of LEFTOVERS.  Lunches for days, dinners and midnight snacks for nights into the coming week without the need to stir a pot or lift a spoon (except as a tool with which to nibble the delicacies that your overstuffed guests have left behind.   Oh joy!  Oh rapture!  And so many things taste even better the 2nd and 3rd day anyway.....Glorious leftovers....... a gift from heaven.


And then there are those others.  I cannot promise to properly explain the thinking of those people, but I will give it a try.   I firmly believe this it is also fear....... a fear of waste or an  inexplicable fear and dread of LEFTOVERS.  That is the only acceptable excuse I can come up with for stingy portions.......unless it is just plain  stinginess.  (that could be it, couldn't it?).  After all,  it is no more trouble to cook 8 chicken breasts than it is to make 4.   (a bigger pan helps).  And the very idea of someone leaving your table hungry is such a fearsome thought that it cannot be tolerated for a moment by type #1 folk and generates a panic that says, "Better have another appetizer and two more side dishes, maybe".  (Hmmmm I do wonder if this could be a Jewish thing?????) (back to that later )

If you are poor and cannot afford chicken breasts, folks of my ilk will be undaunted and will serve up huge portions of Chili and Beans sparked with tons of chopped raw, sweet red onion, bowls of Tabouli (bulgar wheat, tomatoes, onions, mint, olive oil and lemon juice) and hummus with lots of fresh pita bread for dipping.  Wealth does not make a feast........cooks with love in their hearts for food and for people make feasts.


Talking about all of this reminds me of my beloved friend, Dorothy..........the one who taught me to curse properly by adding  "shitpissfuck" to my vocabulary.  And thinking about Dorothy brings me back to my whimsical query about whether bountiful, groaning  tables might be a Jewish thing.  You see, the fact is that Dorothy, a paragon of virtue and  possessor of  numerous talents was one of the worst sinnners in category # 2 described above and   it always baffled me because Dorothy was a superb cook and great hostess, but Dorothy was only HALF Jewish.  An invitation to Dorothy's for dinner was a highly prized thing and we all knew that we would be fed in high gourmet style, on lovely china and with candlelight, shining flatware, goblets and fine wine.  The conversation would be bright, intelligent and funny  and you would leave delightfully entertained but dreadfully hungry.  If  Dorothy had 6 people to dinner she would present a platter with 7 chicken breasts, one helping of veggies for each guest and 6 wonderful dinner rolls.  Maybe even a potato for each.....whatever there was for dinner, there would be one serving for each person and perhaps a teensie smidge over....like the 7th chicken breast.  Everybody desperately wanted the last breast but none of us had the guts to take it and we all knew that it would not look civilized (which we all felt we were)  if we divided it up into 6 pieces and scraped the smidgeons remaining in each bowl plus spinning a bottle  to see who got to lick the spoon.  So, the 7th breast always remained forlornly on the plate, hugely coveted but unclaimed.  

When everyone left and I was helping Dorothy clean up I once asked her why she didn't make more  food in case someone wanted seconds.    She looked at me like I was crazy and said in the most scathing and condescending tone of voice..........., "For heaven's sake, what for......Haven't you noticed there is always one piece leftover?